Quotes from Liane Moriarty

Funerals all have the same smells and sounds.

bemused. "You wouldn't

Excuse me?' A beaming female face swims into focus. A woman has touched her on the arm and Grace is disconcerted, as though someone on television waved at her. She feels so remote from the world, from normal people, she thought she was invisible.

I'm using you to help me not think about my husband,' she clarified. She wanted him to understand. 'Tess. Honey. Do you think I don't I don't know that?' Then he kissed her so deeply and so completely that she felt like she was falling, floating, spiraling down, down, down, like Alice in Wonderland.

source of profound irritation. "Ed, mate! And little, hmmm . . . It's your first day at school too, isn't it?" Nathan could never be bothered to remember Madeline's children's names. He held up his palm for a high five with Fred. "Gidday, champ." Fred betrayed her by high-fiving him back. Nathan kissed

Nathan was pretending to be Ed. He was pretending to be a good man, and everyone was falling for it. "Sure

You could try as hard as possible to imagine someone else's tragedy – drowning in icy waters, living in a city split by a wall – but nothing truly hurt until it happened to you. Most of all, to your child.

Their mother, Maxine Kettle, is president of the Australian Mothers of Multiples Association, a regular speaker at events for mothers of twins and triplets, and author of the book Mothering Multiples: The Heaven, the Hell, which has sold in countries around the world. Their father, Frank Kettle, is a well-known Sydney property developer. Their parents divorced when the girls were six.

As Clementine walked back inside studying the photo, she wondered what sort of person Erika could have been, would have been, should have been, if she'd been given the privilege of an ordinary home. You could jump so much higher when you had somewhere safe to fall.

Motherhood and marriage had made her a soft, spongy version of the girl she used to be.

Forty-year-old woman found dead. Oh dear. Twenty-year-old woman found dead. Tragedy! Sadness! Find that murderer!

Smiley-face tattoos. How drunk must he have been? It kind of changed her entire view of the man. No longer the arrogant sneering man. He was Tony. Tony with smiley-face tattoos on his butt.

She looked at her dad, the only innocent one in their family, on his hands and knees peering at the lock. He'd get them out of here. He could fix anything, given the opportunity. He just hadn't been given the opportunity to fix Zach.

The younger man sitting next to her, her son perhaps, who looked to be in his forties, had a bar code tattooed on the back of his tanned neck, as if he were a supermarket product.

It was like when you burn yourself on a hotplate and at first you think, Huh, that should have hurt more, and then it does hurt more, and then all of a sudden it hurts like hell.

He looked simultaneously very young and very old, as if all the past and future versions of himself were overlaid on his face.

something about that knowing smirk of hers. She's thinking, Yep, all men are bastards but we women just have to knuckle down and get on with it. I

And she loved a good cry! Afterwards she always felt serene and slightly sleepy.

your husband tells you about finding a corpse, you can't then immediately follow it with, "Fancy some pasta?

sounded so sure of herself, as if she knew Lars

Yes, Ron had always respected Connie, even though he suspected the feeling was not mutual. That doesn't concern him especially. He doesn't need to be liked. A lot of people don't like him. It is their problem. Not his.

Love is a decision.

that expensive butcher in the arcade on the way home from the

but really, when you didn't let a woman help, it was a way of keeping her at a distance, of letting her know that she wasn't family, of saying I don't like you enough to let you into my kitchen.